


Conflagrate

by Mersheeple



Series: Hearts&Cauldrons Prompts [47]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dark Magic, F/M, HEA, Seems Dark but isnt, dark rituals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:27:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25615858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mersheeple/pseuds/Mersheeple
Summary: The ritual was designed to kill, to destroy, to burn...until she was chosen as the sacrifice.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Severus Snape
Series: Hearts&Cauldrons Prompts [47]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1805746
Comments: 5
Kudos: 67





	Conflagrate

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Morbidmuch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morbidmuch/gifts).



> MM, this went darker than I intended but...I kinda like it anyway! I hope you do too! <3
> 
> Conflagrate - to catch fire; to set on fire

She stood in the centre of the circle, the flickering candles bathing her skin in shadows as she waited. The breeze that moved the candle flames died completely and she closed her eyes, counting backwards from one hundred. She had read about this ritual before. She had never thought she would be part of it.

“Look at the little Mudblood bitch…think she knows what happens after this is over? Think she read it in one of her books?” She didn’t recognise the voice but she knew the sentiments behind it. The hatred, the pain that was to be inflicted. She wasn’t afraid. She had faced worse than this. And at least once this ritual was over, it could only go one of two ways; either the ritual would kill her and it would be over, or the old gods would bless her with new magic and she would survive.

“Little girl, little girl, are you ready to play?” That voice she definitely knew. Malfoy Senior. Wasn’t he supposed to be in Azkaban for life? Harry had vouched for Narcissa and even for Draco but Malfoy Senior was supposed to be in prison for the rest of his days. But then, there were no Dementors keeping anyone there anymore, just the guards. And guards were corruptible. Merlin only knew how many of these ‘Porteur de la Mort’ were actually just Death Eaters who had escaped.

The ‘Death Bringers’ were a known faction of ‘believers’ that Harry and Ron had been hunting for three years, ever since they had attacked the Ministry and killed several of their colleagues in the Aurory. Neville Longbottom had lost an arm and, instead of continuing on desk work, had chosen instead to return to Hogwarts as an Apprentice of, and later the Assistant Professor to, Professor Sprout.

“I asked you a question, Mudblood bitch!” She felt the slap across her face but refused to react. He couldn’t perform the ritual until he was outside the circle. For now, she was safe. She heard the door to the room open and knew that the last of their number, whoever he was, was now ready and the ritual would begin. The man stepped forward in silence, standing behind her and grabbing her hands behind her at the wrist. She breathed in and recognised the scent of him; old books, spearmint and herbs. Oh god, not him, anyone but him. He put his hand between her shoulder blades and pushed her to her knees, her hands bound behind her. It was painful, but not as painful as knowing that he was lying again, that he was not who he had claimed to be.

She would not cry. She would not give them the satisfaction. She felt the whisper of a preparatory spell across her skin and recognised his magic. She felt sick. She was shivering and shaking and…no. She would not give them the satisfaction. She drew herself up to kneel properly, her head level and staring blankly ahead. She was made of stone. She would not quake and tremble. She was stronger than that.

Or at least she thought she was until they began chanting the vile Latin that made her blood run cold.

“Furantur eius vitae ea furantur magicae, eius anima furantur, flebat virginitatem furantur…” The lights flickered as they intoned the words and then she felt the flame begin in her chest. She would not scream. It engulfed her, throbbing, burning, flaring outwards. Through her chest, down her legs, throbbing into her womanhood and making her moan for an entirely different reason.

“Little Mudblood likes it. Oh, she likes the feel of real magic!” She heard the younger voice again and an echo of laughter before the chanting continued, getting louder as the fire got stronger.

“Furantur eius vitae ea furantur magicae, eius anima furantur, flebat virginitatem furantur…” The burning in her loins increased and she felt her nipples peak, her skin prickling as they walked around the markings on the ground. The flames were hotter now, blurring her vision, burning her throat, destroying her from the inside out. She heard the final lines of the Ancient Rites and her resolve broke. She screamed over the voices as the burning continued.

“Aestuetis, non ardebit, adolebitque, perdere, ea finis!” As they spoke the final word, her scream changed into a feral growl, the flames engulfing her. In the midst of the flames she heard one voice, speaking to her, directly to her.

“Little Phoenix, little Phoenix, be reborn. Take the flames, take them and make them yours. Little Phoenix, little Phoenix, burn, burn little Phoenix, burn…” Hermione knew that voice. That voice was a friend. No, more than a friend. Protector. Familiar. Mine.

She let the flames engulf her, destroying her and making her reborn. She heard the screams of the unworthy as she sent the flames towards those that would try to destroy her. The flames began to die as he spoke to her again.

“Little Phoenix, you are safe. Little Phoenix, you are beautiful and reborn. Little Phoenix, stop.” And she stopped, staring at him as he smiled at her, whispering her name again.

“Little Phoenix…live.”


End file.
